This may shed some light on the matter of Malcolm Buggeroll...

This from the arts column of the Twillingsgate Herald on Monday, Nov 4, 2002, morning edition...

MALCOLM BUGGEROLL SIGNS BOOKS AT VICAR'S INN

The highly esteemed "Poet of the Highlands", Malcolm Buggeroll was on hand at the Vicar's Inn this past Sunday afternoon for a signing of his latest edition of poems and essays "The Monkey's Breakfast - an exploration of British mores on the family farm". Mr Buggeroll arrived at 2 O'Clock sharp and was immediately surrounded by a crowd of adoring fans, among whom were seen such luminaries as Herbert Cadwell-Snyfferton, Lord and Lady Pertinstone, and Ms Penelope Rutledge, clad in a fetching sky blue gown that suggested the Napoleonic era to me, sans the lowcut bodice, of course! Alas! for the mensfolk...but I digress.

Mr Buggeroll proceeded to read from his new book to the enraptured audience, regaling them with piquant passages from his most pertinent prose. Short poems such as "Fluffy's Dilemma" were read in their entirety, and bore a whole new quality for those accustomed only to reading Mr Buggeroll's works in the privacy of their drawing room or veranda.

In short, Mr Buggeroll has an oratorical style which somehow combines the rough-hewn edges of the bucolic life with the sophisiticated wit and satire known only to the upper echelons of country society.

Following the readings, Mr Buggeroll engaged in a lengthy ad hoc lecture which introduced some quite unexpected topics, such as his lifelong love of farm animals, labourers, and schoolchildren.

"What is your favourite animal?" I inquired of him.

"I love ALL animals!" he answered, "...but SHEEP...I ADORE sheep. They are so wooly, innocent, and obliging. And they are trusting. No sheep ever thinks ill of someone approaching from behind, and this is a trait found only in the pure of heart, I think. If more people were sheep-like in their character, this would be a far more loving world."

At this point there was a disturbance, Winston Wellington-Jones having broken out in a serious coughing fit. He became quite red-faced, and had to be escorted to the lavatory. Fortunately he came to no harm, but could be seen sometime afterward laughing uproariously at some joke with his friends on the patio outside. I thought it to be rather inconsiderate of them, but Buggeroll, being the Great Man he is, paid them no mind.

At the conclusion of what was really a quite splendid afternoon, Ms Rutledge was asked to read a dedication to Mr Buggeroll on behalf of all Twillingsgate. The sum and substance of it was that the Vicar's Inn had decided to rename its finest guest rooms in Mr Buggeroll's honour.

To quote Ms Rutledge..."From this day forward these lodgings will be known as 'Suite Buggeroll'...and...and..." (Ms Rutledge appeared momentarily confused) "And, dear friends, here over the door is the embossed plaque which bears those very words and which shall forever commemorate this suite as...well, as I said before...and, well, I...thank you one and all!"

At this point there was a positive shriek of laughter from the patio, indicating that Mr Wellington-Jones and his compadres had probably imbibed just a wee bit too much champagne. They got cross looks from both Ms Rutledge, who appeared quite flushed, and Mr Buggeroll himself, but their faux pas was soon forgotten in the delicious dinner that followed...a tour de force by the kitchen staff of the Vicar's Inn. Even haggis was served, but only Mr Buggeroll partook of it as far as I could see.

I can safely say that a splendid time was had by all, with the possible exception of Ms Rutledge who appeared to have taken slightly ill, and excused herself early. Wellington-Jones and his riotous friends fortunately departed early as well, to the bar, where I am told they remained until closing time.

Malcom Buggeroll will be signing his book this coming Thursday at the Book Cellar in Twillingsgate, and all lovers of British literature are encouraged to sieze the chance to obtain a signed First Edition of "The Monkey's Breakfast", hot off the press, as it were...a mere 85 Pounds, and a bargain at the price.

- Constancia Cooper, Twillingsgate Herald